


Benedict

by Zuzanny



Category: Original Work
Genre: 2015 - Freeform, Death of a pet, Poetry, to help me mourn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26709097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuzanny/pseuds/Zuzanny
Summary: All about my beloved little kitty-boy Benedict, and how everything now reminds me of him. Rate T for death of a loved animal. I'm not sure if that is counted as adult themes or not.
Relationships: Benedict and me





	Benedict

11/03/2015

Benedict

by Zuzanny

He was a little bit Feral, but he had a heart of gold.

I first met him while he was a very little kitten. Probably 6 weeks old, if that. I had just finished an Outside Broadcast at a shopping centre with the radio station I volunteer at, and I saw an animal petting zoo that was being packed up. They had kittens, and they were for sale. After picking up a few kittens and having them cry to be put down, I picked up this little boy, and he curled up contentedly in my arms. I knew then he was meant to be mine. He became my little boy, my little man. I carried him in a box with some water and kitten food, and went to pick my daughter up from school. He was a brave boy, hated being in the box, and was happy to ride on my shoulder as I drove. He was so curious, and wanted to know about everything. He made me think of Sherlock Holmes, so I named him Benedict after the actor. My daughter Joy fell in love with this little ball of fur at once, and wanted to take him every where. She declared he was her Little Brother, and he was. Eventually I had to leave him at home instead, even though our adult cat who was already there was NOT impressed. Benedict was so small that he could fit into one of Joy's shoes, and he would often attack them as though there were something edible. He would also get the toilet paper off the hanger and carry the roll around in his mouth like it was some thing he had caught. I really didn't like cleaning up the shredded toilet paper from around the house all the time, but I still thought it was funny to see him walking so proudly, with it almost bigger than he was.

Everything around this house reminds me of him. His dirty white fur with golden-orange splotches that make him look sort of like a miniature cheetah or tiger. I think he believed he was a tiger cub waiting to return to the jungle with the way he acted some times. As feisty as he was, he would always do something that would make me giggle.

I drive up the drive way to park, and he's no longer there at the door waiting for me to let him inside. He would chase Subaru around the front yard, and they would fight and wrestle for dominance, but at the end of the day they would still come inside and share our bed.

The entrance room I have been converting into a library to try and stop the gathering of items that would just be dumped instead of being put away where they belong. In the summer it would get incredibly hot because the eastern side was all windows, so I decided that having a wall of books would be a good way to use the space and insulate. The Southern glass doors I hung some sheets to also help cool the place down. Benedict would lie down on the cool floor, or curl up were the sheets would dangle on the floor. He managed to work out how to get through the fly screen on the door and often would get out. Subaru some times would as well, but most of the time she would wait and stare intently at the door until you opened it for her.

Coming into the house he would often be there to trip over, and then jump on Subaru when we went into the lounge room. He would scratch up the arm chairs and climb up their backs. Sometimes he would attack you while your hair dangled down the back. It was impossible to knit and watch tv, because he would be there trying to eat the yarn. Or the needles. While Subaru curled up on the floor in the lounge room, he would be up to some mischief, usually involving jumping on her and then getting into "punch up fights" with her.

In the kitchen I keep his cat tree. Subaru refused to use it, but Benedict loved it. It was taller than I am, and he would run up it to then rest on the top and watch over his kingdom. If anyone turned the tap on, he would be there wanting to drink from the running water. He hated still water from a bowl. He would often jump up on the bench or the table, and I would have to either spray him or tell him off. I'm sure he just would do it again when I wasn't there. If I sat to study in the kitchen, he would curl up on one of the chairs beside me and just be there. Same for in the computer room. He would sniff around under the desk (where I once caught Subaru peeing, so no cats were allowed to be in the room unsupervised), and I would have to shoo him away from there. But then he would curl up on one of the chairs, the pink one with no back on it, and just be a comfortable presence right there.

When ever I go into the bathroom, I now see him sitting in the green sink, curled up, waiting for me to turn the tap on. He would often come in and want a drink either from the bath or the sink. And he would wait while you were bathing to get a go at the taps. Sometimes he would actually scratch at the bath enamel, as though that would make the taps run. This usually happened late at night (or very early in the morning) and I would find myself staggering out of bed and running the water so he could drink and then go to bed. He always ran very hot, the poor little boy. His ears in particular were always quite warm to touch. It was probably why the fleas were always so attracted to him as well.

When I first moved into this house, my dad installed a fan in the toilet, and cut big holes through the base of the door to help with air flow. Benedict would follow you to the toilet, and we would play games with poking through those holes. He would reach in and try to grab me. I would try to pat the back of his paws with out getting the claws. Sometimes he would try to poke his face through, and if I were quick enough I could rub the bridge of his nose (or just poke him in the nose) before he would catch me. We also store pens in those holes, and if no one wanted to play with him while they were seated, he would try to pull the pens out to chew on. Sometimes he was actually successful. Now I see those holes and I cry.

I had to lock him out of the art room, other wise he would just be in there exploring all day, and would have probably never seen him again. He so loved to get into things!

In my bedroom, he would open the door (cheeky thing!) and give this little purring meow to check we were there. I would call his name, and then he would jump up for a pat and curl up on my legs. If Joy left a glass of water to drink, his head would end up stuck in it. We used to joke about him being a little Rum Tum Tugger, with how he would want to get into everything. He liked to climb up on top of my chest of drawers, and would often knock things down. Sometimes he and Subaru would even sleep on the bed at the same time!

Benedict and Subaru never got along at food time. Benedict tried to be in charge when Subaru was the Alpha here. I had two bowls which I ended up having to separate with plastic containers so they couldn't see each other while they were eating. Where ever Subaru ate, he would then shove in to eat instead. That stopped with the separating. He would come out in the back yard with me when I went out early in the mornings to feed the chickens and the duck. Benedict was actually very good around the birds, which surprised me. I expected him to try and hunt them, but after a few times he settled down around them, although the duck Jamima would always hiss at him as he walked past (then she would cower away from him if he so much as glanced in her direction, which always amused me). Benedict would sniff at the chook feed before the chooks even got a look at it, and would poke his head into the chook shed at the eggs. When I would turn the water on for Jamima's water trough, he would be there to drink from the hose from the side of the trough. Jamima would curse and swear at him while he drank because she wanted to just get in there and swim. He would ignore her and keep drinking until he was done, then he'd be off chasing bugs through the grass, or running with the tree, or climbing up onto the roof. Today when I turned on the hose, Jamima came to the tap and stood where he used to stand. She looked around for him, but he wasn't there. She stood at the side where he used to be, and he wasn't there either. She looked very confused before I turned the tap off and had to run inside.

Several months ago my dad knocked the base of the shower out of the house because it kept backing up. This made him very sick from breathing in all the dust (and who knows what mold spores), but also left a massive hole in the floor of the shower room. Benedict figured out how to open the door, and would use this hole as an access to the outside through the shed. In the early hours of the morning I would often hear the sound of his little paws stomping on the left over pipes to get in and out. Subaru refused to use this entrance, demanding to be let in and out like a lady. The chooks soon learned about this entrance (because they are tricky little things that also like the taste of cat food), and I often would have to chase them outside again and close the door. White thing then decided that the floor of the shower room would be a good place to lay her eggs. She often would change locations, so after wondering where she was laying now, and then finding her in there I thought that was actually pretty cool and easy to collect from. I didn't mind. But then she stopped laying in there.

Very early in the morning one day, I heard a strange noise in the back yard. It made me think that someone had disturbed the duck. Then I heard the sound of a cat fight. We had had catfights in the back yard before, but since I put the netting up, they had reduced. This one only lasted maybe a minute, but grew in intensity at the end, like someone had actually been hurt this time. But then it went quiet. A few minutes later I heard the sound of paws on the pipes, and thought nothing more of it.

In the morning I went out to feed the chooks, and Benedict did not come with me. When I turned on the tap to water the duck, he did not appear to get a drink. I thought this was strange, but brushed it off. I had an early morning trip to go to. I knew he would turn up sooner or later. When I got home that evening from the trip, he had not shown up still. I thought it was strange, but knew he would turn up when he was ready. In my mind I imagined all sorts of nasty scenarios that revolved around the catfight, and the possibility he had been eaten by a neighboring dog. Or maybe he had been picked up by the pond? It was a long weekend, and they were not open to check until the tuesday. I poked my head down the hole to try and see if he was curled up under the house. I couldn't see him. I called out for him day and night, and looked for a cat on the side of the road in case he had been hit by a car, but he wasn't there. By Monday he still hadn't eaten his food. Him not turning up to drink also had me worried. Both Joy and I started watching the hours until we could call the pound, and praying that we would find him, no matter what had happened to him. We just needed to know.

Subaru went into the shower room, and stopped before the hole, meowing. I told her that I now knew she could get in and out of the house without me opening the doors. I didn't understand what she was trying to tell me.

In the early hours of Tuesday, I had a dream about finding his remains in the belly of a crocodile that lived in a small well in my back yard. Joy woke up early and went to have a bath. While she was in there, I decided to get the torch and poke my head under the floor just one more time just in case. And there he was, just under my feet. Her had been there the whole time, but because of the tones of his fur I couldn't tell him apart from the dirt without the torch. He was dead, but still so adorable, not yet touched by bugs. But I couldn't get him out.

Joy came to work with me instead of going to school. We went out for breakfast, and they had Eggs Benny on the menu. Many people have offered us cats to replace him. That evening we bought orange flowering plants and rosemary, and then I went about excavating the space to get him out from under the house. I wouldn't find any marks on him to tell what happened. But his tongue and nose were quite dry, so I knew he had been gone for some time. We don't know if he was bit by a snake, or a spider. Maybe he had kidney stones and we never knew? Maybe the cat fight hit something important and he died as a result ? We don't know and never will.

We lay him out under a tree in the front yard to take photos of him, and have him resting while I dug his grave. I curled him up in the hole with his back to to sun. he looked to comfortable like that. Then we planted these flowers above him, and Joy made a cross and painted it orange and white to mark him.

Subaru hasn't gone back into the shower room. She stayed outside all night without coming in. I had to let her through the door again. She went to eat her food on the other side of his bowl. She looked at his bowl, like she was confused, like she had forgotten he wasn't there any more. She walked through the halls, slinking cautiously, looking about and expecting him to jump out at her. But he doesn't. I know she is happy that he is no longer in her territory, but I also think that she actually misses him.

In the bathroom there are dirty paw prints of his on the wall above the taps. I can't bear to clean them away. Joy is collecting his fur for a shrine. She is worried she will forget him.

Everything in this house reminds me of my little man. Every room I go into, I remember him, and then I cry.

RIP little boy. 07/03/2015

**Author's Note:**

> Ya know, I still get teary eyed when ever I think of my little boy.


End file.
